


My Empire of Dirt

by Riachinko



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Group Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: Gaston is gone, and LeFou feels lost. He feels a lot of things; but he doesn't want to.





	My Empire of Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill! I think I made it sadder than what was intended, but here we are, whoops.  
> "Tom and Dick decide the best way to get Stanley to confess his attraction to LeFou is to both fuck him at the same time making sure Stanley sees. Stanley does confess but is also very okay with sharing."

The next day, once memories have been restored and Gaston has been declared dead, LeFou is lost.

He stays in bed all day to let the events of the last 24 hours wash over him. He feels rotten with negativity, feelings of fear and worry. He feels resentful towards Gaston - for having manipulated him, for having threatened and used him and left him behind.

He knows the Gaston of last night wasn't the Gaston he'd fought beside, partnered with for over a decade.

He only drags himself to the tavern that night because his pantry is nearly empty, and what's left isn't appetising in the least. He could use a good stew. He could stand to be around friends.

There aren’t quite so many people at the tavern tonight: people don’t have too many reasons to celebrate right now. They’d been frenzied and led astray by their town hero; they’d lost their town hero. They’d gained a prince they’d once all despised; they’d gained a princess who many of them still felt strangely about.

Those who had family in the castle were celebrating privately in their homes, or at the castle itself. The people who were at the tavern tonight were drunks and whores and otherwise those who had nothing better to do.

LeFou found Tom, Dick and Stanley there.

When he entered the tavern, there was a noticeable hush fall over the crowd. People stopped what they were doing, many of them with surprised expressions, some of them mournful. Nobody had expected LeFou to shuffle in, eyes half-lidded and red, and make his way to Gaston’s empty antlered throne.

_Poor LeFou, he’s lost his best friend. Does he even know how to function without being told what to do?_

He curls up into the broad seat, feet resting against one fur-upholstered arm, and the small of his back against the other. He presses his cheek into a wolf pelt strewn over the back of the chair; one that Gaston had taken great care to get undamaged. It almost smells like him.

“Here you go love, on the house,” a barmaid sets a stein of cheap beer on the table beside LeFou, and leaves him be, but he doesn’t touch it.

He came for a meal, but now that he’s here, smothered by an atmosphere of pity, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to eat.

“LeFou,” Stanley approaches, with Tom and Dick at his side. “It’s good to see you.”

“None of us thought you’d come around for a while yet,” Tom says.

“You’ve got a beer there,” Stanley lifts his in front of himself, “shall we drink to His honour?”

LeFou simply stares at his knees. It’s pathetic but he thinks he actually might cry. Maybe the beer will do him good - help him to forget his sadness. He swallows a lump in his throat, and looks up questioningly at his small crowd.

“Maybe later then,” Dick chimes in, placing a hand on LeFou’s shoulder and lowering Stanley’s stein with the other.

Tom sips awkwardly from his glass of whiskey and Stanley turns slightly to sip from his mug, not wanting to look as though he’s following through with his toast.

LeFou’s mouth opens and his friends look on with wide eyes, eager to hang on his every word, just as they would when Gaston sat in this same spot. His mouth closes, he licks his lips. Finally, he coughs, and manages in a small voice to say,

“He left me behind. You’d be drinking to a selfish, manipulative brute who never once cared about me or our friendship.”

He doesn’t look angry as he speaks, but his eyes are glassy with unfallen tears, prickling his vision.

Stanley looks genuinely saddened at his words; Dick and Tom look to the floor, brows furrowed, uncomfortable.

“Ey, that’s not true, you know,” Tom says softly. “He was a good man.”

“He cared deeply about you, you could tell by how you made him laugh. I...admired your friendship. Very much,” Stanley swaggers in place, taking another drink for the courage to continue. “So please don’t speak like that.”

Dick leans into Stanley, then, and whispers to him. “Are you gonna tell him how you feel, then?” The tavern has gotten louder since LeFou’s arrival, but the words carry.

“We all got a little bit crazy back there, yeah?” Tom pulls up a stool and sits by LeFou’s feet. “For all we know, this was all part of the enchantment. Part of God’s plan.”

“So God’s pawn, huh…” LeFou snorts.

Now he _does_ drink - _aches_ for it - needs to numb himself however he can. Talking about it is too much. He supposes in time he’ll be able to come to terms with everything that has happened, but now’s not that time.

A woman comes around - one LeFou recognizes, but has never cared to learn the name of - and coos at him. She looks like she could be sad, but her face is too painted to tell for certain. Her breasts spill out of her top as she bends, kisses the top of LeFou’s head and twirls one of his dark curls around her finger.

“I can help you forget, poor thing. No charge.”

When LeFou says nothing, Stanley curls his arm around her shoulder to pull her gently away. “We’ll all miss Gaston,” she blows a kiss and leaves, but it’s then that LeFou notices the attentions being thrown in his direction.

There are women whispering to each other and pointing; looking at him and smiling sadly; hopefully. Someone sends him another beer, “From Adelle,” the barmaid says, and LeFou doesn’t know who Adelle is. He furrows his brow in aggravation; hates everyone for being so goddamned _stupid_. He chugs his free beer and looks away from the whores at the bar.

“The poor guy’s heartbroken, comfort him for God’s sake,” Dick whispers again to Stanley.

“I-- I can’t just jump in like that,” Stanley hisses back. “You have no idea how delicate matters of the heart can be.”

“I can hear you,” LeFou says flatly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I-- I’m sorry,” says Stanley, straightening his posture as though he’s a child who has just been reprimanded by his father. Dick likewise looks like a deer looking down the barrel of a blunderbuss.

Tom orders another round of beer for the lot of them, and the maid brings the tray of drinks over hastily, placing each one on the nearby table for Tom to distribute.

“I don’t give a shit about matters of the heart,” says LeFou, voice going hoarse, tears finally dissipating, but still burning behind his eyes. “Just make me feel something other than pain.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Tom says, raising his stein and drinking without waiting for the other men to clink their mugs to his.

“You’re popular with the ladies, tonight, LeFou,” Stanley tries.

LeFou looks positively sour in response. “Mm, do you think I should fuck them?” he asks snottily, sipping his ale.

“If that would make you happy,” Stanley blushes faintly, taking a step backwards. “I’m sorry, excuse me.” He shuffles away, stumbling over a bar stool, making his way to the bar.

“You want to numb yourself, I’ll give you a fucking to forget your troubles,” Dick says finally, propping himself casually on an arm of LeFou’s chair, leaning in so as not to draw unwanted attention. He’d learned already from his mistakes, whispering to Stanley. “Tom too. And Stanley if he’s man enough to join.”

This is the first time this evening that LeFou smiles. But it’s cynical, for sure. He eyes Tom, by his feet. He looks at Stanley drowning himself in shots of vodka at the bar. His eyes lock onto Dick’s, who he supposes is handsome enough, in a dopey, rugged kind of way. He’d do.

Hell, he didn’t even have to open his eyes during, maybe.

He wasn’t horny in the least, but what the hell else was he going to do.

“I have Gaston’s spare key,” is all LeFou says, and he pushes himself up off of the furs; drowns down the last of the beer Tom had ordered for him as he totters over to the staircase.

His hangers-on follow behind him - Dick whistles to catch Stanley’s attention, and the young man throws his coins down onto the bartop and follows them up.

Gaston’s private room is at the end of the hall; practically a closet, but big enough for a cot and nightstand. He’d used it solely for showing women a good time, or maybe sometimes when he’d gotten so drunk that he couldn’t make the walk back to his bungalow. It didn’t need to be large.

Still, it was a fairly cozy fit for four grown men. Cozier still once Tom moves in and lights the candlestick on the nightstand.

LeFou crawls onto the cot, as he’d always dreamt of doing. Christ, the pillow still smelled like Gaston. He holds it to his chest, breathing the scent of it deeply; holding it in his lungs. He was going to sleep here for the rest of his life.

His tired eyes land on the men - his friends - who’d followed him and Gaston into battle. And don’t you know it, he begins to tear up again.

“How do you want me, then?” his voice wavers, but he mans up and saves face. He always was good at hiding his true feelings from Gaston - he’d just have to do the same tonight, wouldn’t he?

He clutches the pillow to him, but he bites his lower lip, grins and bares his dimples. His eyes flicker from Tom to Dick to Stanley, coyly, demurely. He spreads his legs wide.

“To be honest I’m impressed you all presumably know what you’re doing enough to proposition me,” LeFou smirks, “but I don’t mind. As long as you’re good.”

“Ha,” Dick chortles. “A hole’s a hole, isn’t it? Just like fucking a woman.”

LeFou hums. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

The men are visibly ready to go, antsy, shifting their hips to better accommodate their burgeoning erections. Tom removes his waistcoat, Stanley his hat. Dick makes quick work of his trousers; pulling the drawstring, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops to push his trousers and knickers down to his knees.

LeFou doesn’t wait for anyone to offer to strip him - one should take care of oneself for a casual fuck like this. He mirrors Dick’s actions, but removes his breeches and knickers completely and throws them at Stanley.

Dick spits into his hand twice for good measure and rubs his cock up and down, massaging the head with particular attention as he leers down at LeFou. He’s ungodly hairy with muscular legs and a strong grip - he holds LeFou’s left leg high in the air and grabs tightly to his right hip.

“Do you want it?” The man grins, gap in his teeth evident when he lolls his tongue and lets a glob of saliva drop down onto LeFou’s entrance.

“Just do it,” LeFou hisses. “Make me feel it!”  
  
He plunges in without much thought, into the hilt in one eager thrust. LeFou’s used to it; always thought Gaston would be the same. And Dick’s fairly big - not as big as Gaston, surely - so this could end up being _some_ fun. LeFou finds himself growing mildly excited thinking about how Tom and Stanley might join in. Three men: it’s certainly a first, but it’s doing nothing yet to get his mind off of Gaston.

He exhales sharply, moans; makes eye contact and waves Tom over.  
  
Tom seems hesitant to do so at first - and Stanley is completely frozen - but he, too, begins to remove his breeches and undergarments. He takes himself in hand and pumps his cock lazily, making his way to the head of the cot to better observe the goings-on. 

The pace Dick has set is fast, ragged and uneven, and LeFou almost feels sorry for the women he’s bedded. He’s strong and eager, and LeFou wonders - as he regularly has for the better part of fifteen years - if Gaston fucked women like Dick does.

But it doesn’t matter. If he’d ever had the pleasure, he would have loved every minute of it.

He pulls himself to the edge of the cot and draws Tom closer by grabbing hold of the man’s cock, fisting it tightly, eliciting a surprisingly delicious moan from him. But he doesn’t want to exert himself tonight; it’s easier to let men use his mouth, so that’s what he does. He wets his lips and presses them to the tip of Tom’s cock and hums sweetly against it.

“God--”

Dick thrusts into LeFou hard and pushes him into Tom, who buries his fingers in LeFou’s hair and holds his head firmly as LeFou’s lips wrap around his member. He takes the length of it down his throat with trained ease.

LeFou moans and Tom grunts and Dick swears and it’s finally getting good - LeFou’s finally getting hard.

And Stanley gasps at the sight before him.

“Are you going to tell this slut how you feel or not!?” Dick growls.  
  
LeFou flinches at the crude name, knows it’s been said in a fit of lust, but it breaks something in him. Gaston’s pillow is right there - without Gaston’s beautiful head on it - the whole room smells of him, and LeFou’s not a slut; has never wanted to fuck or be fucked by anyone but Gaston. And he cries.

He doesn’t even try to hold back the sobs that wrack his body; just tries to choke Tom down as much as he can to drown them out.

He’s fucking ashamed of himself. Sullying Gaston’s bedlinens like this. Allowing Tom and Dick and even Stanley to be in here - Gaston’s private room - letting their mutual friends fuck him like a cheap whore now that the man’s dead and gone. LeFou’s chest heaves; teardrops stain the bedding below.

“Mmph--!”

Dick fucks into him repeatedly, ignoring his cries, leaving crescent marks in LeFou’s leg from his nails.

“God - _hahh_ \- I-I’m close!” he growls suddenly.

“B-bite me,” LeFou snarls in reply, and Dick obliges. He leans in, tears the fuchsia kerchief from around LeFou’s neck fast enough to break it and sinks his teeth ferally into LeFou’s neck.

It hurts.

Fuck, does it ever hurt. It’s not at all the way Gaston had done it when they’d tussle, though LeFou couldn’t explain the difference. He wails from the pain and sobs because he misses Gaston so damn much already. The tears stream down his face and he can only distract himself by taking Tom’s cock into his mouth again, gagging on it because of Dick’s rough thrusts.

And then Dick’s thrusts become slower and more shallow, and he grunts horribly loudly as he cums, holding himself in place to make sure LeFou knows he’s filled.

The tears are slowing once more - they seem to come in waves, LeFou notices - and he endeavours to focus on his quieter, shyer patrons. His tongue runs firmly against the underside of Tom’s cock, loops around the head of it and dips into its slit. He repeats his ministrations until finally and the man stiffens; his grasp on LeFou gets tighter and LeFou knows that Tom, too, is about to finish. He gags; swallows his cock, deep deep deep, and Tom’s seed spills hotly down LeFou’s throat.

He draws away with a comet trail of saliva between his softening cock and the tip of LeFou’s tongue.

“Stanley..?” LeFou chokes.

Tom moves, pulling his knickers up as he does so and offering his spot to the shy young man who stands behind him, rubbing himself through his clothing.

Dick scoots to the edge of the cot to redress, but before doing so, he grabs Stanley’s wrist and hauls him down onto the cot. 

“Show him, then, if you’re too much of a coward to tell him.”  
  
Stanley hovers, fully-dressed, over a half-naked LeFou; knees digging into the cot on either side of LeFou’s hips, and he gawks, open-mouthed as Dick finishes fastening his trousers, and he and Tom leave the room.

It’s just LeFou and Stanley now, and for an awkward moment, they’re both silent.

“You’re so beautiful,” Stanley mumbles at last.

And LeFou actually laughs.

Christ, he’s sore. His chin is slick with spit and cum and he’s got more running down the cleft of his ass. He’s sweaty and drunk and his hair is messed up. He’s got tear trails down his cheeks and he’s sure his eyes are probably bright pink.

So he laughs at Stanley.

“You’re a fool,” he says.

But Stanley smiles. “And you look amazing when you laugh.”  
  
LeFou’s smile fades at this, though, and for the nth time tonight, his eyes well up and he clings desperately to the pillow that smells like the man he loved and loves still.  
  
“You can say his name,” Stanley says, and he leans in to place a kiss at the tip of LeFou’s cock. Moans as sweet as honey when he takes LeFou into his mouth, and LeFou can feel the vibrations of it, can himself getting hard against the young man’s tongue; mouth as hot as an inferno.

It feels amazing.

LeFou doesn’t remember the last time anyone bothered to pleasure him like this. He knows Gaston would never have; would have been too prideful.

He buries his face in the pillow, whines Gaston’s name over and over between sobs and flicks his hips against Stanley’s gracious mouth until finally he’s had enough. He clenches and thrusts deep into Stanley’s throat, clawing at the sheets and biting into that damn pillow that he just wants to tear the fuck apart.

“ _Gast_ \--!”

LeFou is left panting as Stanley removes his reddened lips from his cock with a pop and a smack, but he doesn’t go far. Instead, he’s collapsed onto LeFou’s gut; is kissing his stomach and the trail of dark hair leading downwards past his belly button. Stanley sighs contentedly. “You’re so beautiful,” he repeats.

LeFou still doesn’t believe it, but he thanks him anyway.

Stanley hasn’t gotten off - LeFou can feel his erection pressed against his leg - but LeFou is tired and doesn’t mention it. Stanley could have chosen several other activities to reach a climax, and if he doesn’t care, neither does LeFou.

His chest is still shaky with suppressed sobs. He lets one escape when he yawns.

Stanley at last moves to get up off of the cot. He fixes himself; pats his clothing down, gets his hat.

“Can-- Can I help you get dressed, LeFou?”

His eyes are so honest; earnest. He truly does believe that LeFou is a good person, doesn’t he?

LeFou shakes his head. “I’m going to sleep here tonight.”

Stanley’s hopeful smile falters slightly, and for a second he looks disappointed. LeFou knows - after years of practice covering his own affections - that the smile Stanley now wears isn’t genuine. Fool.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Stanley opens the door softly; pauses in the door frame. “For what it’s worth,” he says before leaving, “I would never leave you behind.”

And then he’s gone, with a gentle click of the door shutting behind him, and LeFou’s alone.

He mulls over Stanley’s words, but doesn’t dwell on them. Nobody else in the history of this room ever dwelled on nonsense like matters of the heart, he’s sure of it. He’s too exhausted to think about it.

Sleep overtakes him and he submits with Gaston’s scent lingering in his nostrils and death on his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> You can count on good ol' Johnny Cash for some title insp - [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vt1Pwfnh5pc)
> 
> Bruh, come find me on Twitter @riachinko and let's talk about smut.


End file.
